


Long-Term Memory

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn’t have the words, but he manages to say what he needs to, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long-Term Memory

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #175 "memory"

“Not that I mind,” said John, “but a bunch of scientists have the gene now. You could have gotten this done sooner if you didn’t wait for me to have free time.”

Radek smiled and shook his head. “No, it’s not that, colonel. Someone with the gene has studied these, to determine that they’re functional but not potentially useful. We are sending them back to Earth for further study, so we need someone with the strongest natural gene to make sure they are completely deactivated.”

“Makes sense,” John agreed. “And that someone is me?”

“Exactly,” said Radek, and handed him the first of half a dozen smaller-than-a-breadbox Ancient devices. John thought ‘off’ at them as hard as he could, before Radek packed them into individual standard-issue foam-lined crates.

The seventh device seemed vaguely familiar. “Hey,” said John. “This is that thing from M2X-9915. The one that made us see those weird Ancient home movies.”

“Not quite, colonel,” said Radek. “we were able to determine that it is a memory storage device. Not terribly useful, because only a natural gene carrier can record a memory, and those memories cannot be longer than three minutes. Also, there is no way to access any one memory specifically, so…”

“So, it’s really not that practical,” said John. “But it works, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Radek agreed. He pointed out which of the small indented buttons were ‘play’, ‘record’ and ‘delete’. “I believe the only memory currently recorded is from Dr. Kusanagi…”

John hit the button to play the memory, and he was suddenly in Japan. He knew he wasn’t, really, but it _felt_ like he was, like he was _Miko_ , five years old and accepting a warm rice ball from a woman he knew was her grandmother. The inside of the treat was filled with gooey beans that John had never tasted before but now knew was Miko’s favorite.

“Wow,” he said, when the memory faded, and he was completely back in the lab again.

“Very much so,” said Radek. “I don’t even like beans made that way, but the device also conveys the original emotions of the memory—”

“Really?” said John. “Hey, can I borrow this?”

Radek didn’t even ask what he was planning, he just made John sign the _who had it last_ form and handed over the packing case.

Three weeks later, John brought the case to Rodney’s room, tied shut with a length of ribbon.

“Is it my birthday?” Rodney asked. “Because it’s a holiday where we’re supposed to exchange gifts… I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s not your birthday,” said John, smiling, then he paused. “I just… there are things you should know, Rodney, things you _deserve_ to know, but I can’t… I _want_ to, but I… I just… _here_.”

Confused, Rodney took the packing case, and opened it. “The memory recorder?” he asked, lifting it out. “Sheppard, why do you have this? It doesn’t even work, it only records memory fragments. Kusanagi has some hare-brained theory that it’s meant to engender empathy— _walk in another person’s shoes_ , nonsense like that— so unless you got it to do something else…?”

John shook his head. “No, it doesn’t… Look, McKay, will you just play them?”

Rodney rolled his eyes, but hit the playback button. It looked like he zoned out for a moment, just like any of the innumerable other times John had seen him so lost in thought that he’d forgotten about the rest of the universe, and John let out a long, low breath.

He tried not to fidget, waiting for Rodney to finish. It had taken John three weeks to organize the memories he wanted to share, to practice them in his mind before he committed them to the Ancient device. Rodney would be experiencing the memories at random, and John wondered which one he was seeing now. There were a few of them having sex, of course, but the more John had thought about it, the more he had wanted to include the _boring_ memories. Sharing dinner in the mess with their team, kissing Rodney hello after a long day, watching him scribble equations on his whiteboard, hiking side-by-side through the sunlight on an alien planet, waking up to find Rodney still asleep beside him…

Rodney blinked, suddenly, then shook his head to clear it.

“Oh,” he said, faintly, setting the memory recorder back in its case. “ _Oh._ ”

“Rodney?” asked John, hesitant. He raised one hand, but let it drop without touching him.

“Oh,” Rodney said, again. He sounded wondering, disbelieving. “I had no idea. No, I mean, I knew, I _know_ that you do, John, but I… How can you possibly love me like that?”

“It’s easy,” said John, around the sudden tightness in his throat. “God, Rodney, it’s so damn easy. And I’ve tried to tell you, but I just can’t, so I thought, maybe I could _show_ you, but…”

“Hey, hey,” said Rodney. He crossed the space between them to cup both hands around John’s face and kiss him, achingly sweet. “I know, okay? You don’t have to say it, you don’t ever have to say it. I know you love me, John.”

“Like crazy,” John agreed, because Rodney actually meant it, that whatever John was doing when he couldn’t say the words was somehow saying them anyway.

John grinned and tugged him toward the bed to work on making some more memories.

THE END


End file.
